


Exertion

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Banter, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Size Difference, Spanking, Sweat, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:05:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a request!</p><p>Douglas really does love how Martin looks once he's hot and bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exertion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jay_eagle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_eagle/gifts).



Douglas watches Martin as he heaves the last box onto the ground, settling it down with a surprising neatness upon the ground with the others. Douglas has the money from the job tucked into his inner pocket, and he suspects Martin will want to go home as soon as possible, but _God_ , to look at him, Douglas can't help but be positively fascinated.

Martin is sweating, his freckled cheeks bright red and glistening with wetness, and Martin wipes over his forehead with his sleeve, drawing in a heaving little breath. It's a warm day, truly, and Martin had insisted rather aggressively that he was quite capable of doing the majority of the heavy lifting himself – and really, who was Douglas to disagree when it seemed like so much _effort_?

The first moment Douglas had gotten a tad interested had been when Martin had bent right down to grasp at a box, and he'd worn fairly loose jeans today for the sake of the heat, but the movement had served to set them tight around his lovely little freckled arse and thighs (although the freckles are, unfortunately, not to be seen under the denim) and the utter exertion of it all through the last few hours had only made Martin _prettier_.

Pink-cheeked and wet with sweat, why, Martin looks like Douglas has already had him twice or thrice, and the idea pulls at a perhaps more primal part of Douglas. He's getting _on_ , somewhat, but he can always reduce Martin to wails and wriggles and obvious exhaustion, but when he looks like this? Why, half the job has been done _for_ him.

“What?” Martin asks as Douglas drives the van, glancing at the younger man every few moments. Douglas is certainly _far_ older than Martin, really, and even though Martin's comfortably into his thirties it does feel tremendously **sinful** sometimes, if only because Martin's so very small and slight. He looks like an ill wind might break him some days, and that's after keeping him out of the sun, too, for the sake of his easily burnt skin.

“Nothing,” Douglas lies easily. “Nothing at all.”

“You keep _looking_ at me,” Martin argues, and the flush, which had started to bleed slowly away from those freckly cheeks, begins to return.

“Well, I'm just _thinking_ , that's all. Do you want me to stop thinking, Martin?” Douglas asks, teasing. Fitton is only a mile or so away now, and Douglas just can't _wait_ to draw Martin back into his house and bend him over the nearest available surface – over the kitchen counter, perhaps, with his lovely little fingers scrabbling at the countertop.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How well- _fucked_ you look.”

“Douglas!” Martin protests, but he squirms slightly in his seat, crossing his legs. “Douglas, you can't- I don't-”

“Oh, but you _do_ , Martin,” Douglas says deliberately. “You most _certainly_ do. It truly was all I could think of when I watched you working-”

“You could have helped, you know.”

“You told me not to.”

“But-”

“All I could think of,” Douglas interrupts Martin's indignation smoothly, “Was how lovely that blush on you was, how you looked so perfectly _exerted_. You always do look very pleasant after exercise, and exercise on my co-”

“ _Douglas_ ,” Martin hisses, and he can never quite manage it if Douglas is too frank about his dirty talk – it excites him too much, makes him shift without being able to stay still, and Douglas is certain enough that if he chose to he wouldn't find it too difficult to talk Martin to orgasm, but that's a joy for another day.

For now, Douglas is rather concerned with his _own_ satisfaction as much as Martin's.

“Come on,” Douglas murmurs, and he rushes Martin into the house, immediately pulling at the buttons on the younger man's polo shirt before pulling it up over his head. Martin _shivers_.

“God, it's filthy when you're like this, Douglas,” Martin says breathlessly, even as he swiftly moves to undo his jeans and push them down around his knees. “It's not- it's just not decent, not really, because you're normally so bloody put-together and then you just want to- want to-” Douglas shoves him a bit too hard, and he stops, peering down at Martin with a sudden concern, but as he smacks against the cool marble of Douglas' counter, he just lets out a _moan_.

Douglas always does forget what a charming masochist his freckled friend can be.

“Want to what, Martin? Want to fuck you, perhaps?” Martin shivers. “I must wonder about you, Martin, I really must – what is it about naughty words that you love so much, hmm? This sweat-soaked, filthy little body just seems like it was _made_ for hedonism, and I do so love to impale you on my _cock_.”

“Impale's a bit, um, generous,” Martin says breathlessly, though the barb is somewhat undermined by the preceding _keen_ of noise. Douglas draws a packet from his front pocket, drizzling the lubricant over his fingers and pressing it forwards, and Martin spreads his legs, pressing his wet face against the mercifully cool marble.

“Is it?” Douglas asks, and there's something ridiculously exciting about fucking Martin without a condom on, a sort of sordid, forbidden twinge from when Douglas was in his twenties and having a man came with all _manner_ of terrible risk. Now, of course, the both of them are tested and quite _alright_ , but even still-

“Hurry _up_ , Douglas,” Martin demands, and Douglas chuckles against his back, drawing a half-dozen kisses up the length of Martin's spine before delivering a sharp _smack_ to his thigh, making him twitch. “ _Please_ ,” Martin adds.

“Better,” Douglas murmurs, but his own skin is just on _fire_ now, and he needs Martin, needs him **now**. He lines himself up and fucks forwards, delighting in the wetly lubricated heat of the boy (and he's not a boy, not really, but God, it's so hard to remember when he's crying out under Douglas like this) as Douglas begins to thrust his hips. He doesn't last long, couldn't possibly hope to when he's been waiting for forty minutes and when Martin just looks so utterly debauched, but Martin makes no complaint.

Douglas pulls back once he's come, and he pulls Martin back, turning him around before leaning to draw his tongue over Martin's cock. Martin gasps, and Douglas can't help but _love_ to look at that face of his – he's not an especially pretty thing, Martin, with awkward features and far too many freckles and the slightest hint of sunburn on the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, but good _lord_ , Douglas does like to look at him.

Martin comes with a _whimper_ , and Douglas spits into the sink, drawing himself a quick glass of water and sipping at it to rinse away the taste. “Sorry,” Martin mumbles, and Douglas laughs, drawing Martin close against him (and this is sordid in itself, really, a half-naked Martin Crieff against Douglas' chest when Douglas still has all of his clothes on properly but for his unbuttoned trousers).

“You needn't be _sorry_. Even in my day, Martin, pricks didn't often taste like sugar and roses.”

“Well, it was a long time ago,” Martin mumbles against Douglas' chest, but his tone's cheered up somewhat. “I thought perhaps we'd evolved since then.”

“Cheeky,” Douglas murmurs, and he smacks Martin's thigh again, delighting in the way Martin _giggles_ like a tickled child.

“I know you, um, think I look nice, but I'd really like to go have a shower, now,” Martin murmurs. “And I think you should too.”

“Well, yes,” Douglas agrees. “You smell _awful_ , and I imagine it's rubbed off on me-”

“Douglas!”

“What?” It's an innocent tone, all teasing, and Martin just _grins_ at him, showing all of his teeth. He's such a lovely thing, Martin is, _truly_.

Douglas is very glad to have him.

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are open and encouraged! Send them [here.](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/ask)


End file.
